


Split the Ice apart (break the Frozen Heart)

by Puolukka



Series: Colorful Path [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:03:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2676605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puolukka/pseuds/Puolukka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, in the Moorland of the North, there was a mountain craved out from the sheer and clear ice hidden by a legend and a man in search of the truth that laid underneath it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Split the Ice apart (break the Frozen Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the _Surströmmiakki Fest_ and based on the prompt "Ice: Magic"
> 
> The story is strongly based on the song 'Frozen Heart' from the film _"Frozen" (2013)_ most of the sentences are heavily copied from the lyrics, I only added a bit of my own imagination.

Once upon a time, in the Moorland of the North, there was a mountain craved out from the sheer and clear ice. It was said a tribe inhabited said land and that they were capable of knead the cold and ancient element of the Ice. However, nobody had ever tried again to occupy that frosty zone in the following centuries and those little towns built near the mountain had disappeared along with the last inhabitants.

Here, after a long journey throughout the Green Plains and the huge Polar Sea that surrounded the northern soil, a man with cold stare and sturdy frame had been searching for the legendary Ice Mountain, thus leading him to a cosy Inn at the feet of the Great Chain.

The tavern's owner, a plump middle-aged woman with brownish hair gathered in a very old-styled topknot, had worn the man of the dangerous hazards he would have encountered. "Keep away from that place, foreigner. They said the ghosts of the ancient tribe who inhabited the Mountain are still hunting those lands. The miners swore they saw the spirits of the ancient tribe wandering in search of the once great power and do not even dare to approach their territory."

Notwithstanding, on the morrow, the man gathered his belongings as he bid farewell to the old lady and went up the snowing slope, opening the obstructed path as he climbed his way through it. The more he ascended the more his vision grew glassy and dim; his body was slowly turning into a cold stone of skin and bones when the glimmer of a lantern hit him straight in the eyes.

A group of miners was incidentally descending from the ridge, babbling to one another and radiating a nice and friendly cluster of laughter. Thereby, they saw the wavering form of the man getting closer, thus going to his aid: helping him out and offering a warm blanket to wrap around him.

"What are you doing here, foreigner?" asked one of the miners.

The man introduced himself by the name of Berwald, telling them about his travel and his objective to reach the Ice Mountain.

Again, a miner spoke up. "Are you out of your mind!? You're gonna getting killed up there!"

Nevertheless, the man thanked the miners and resumed his original task; invigorated by the workers' ministrations he climbed up the irregular side with refreshing strength.

When he reached the top of the mountain a monument made of sheer ice came into view. Its geometrical outlines shined under the azure sky and the entire framework extended from a concavity of the rock. It resembled a joint of hundreds of stalagmites which aimed for the clouds; a breathtaking panorama.

Berwald scanned the structure and its landmark with remarkable interest, scribbling notes on his notebook, ravishing in the newly found discovery. While surveying, though, he found a peculiar glow: it came from an area of the monument's face and it glimmered with a bluish shade that flashed in regular cycles, like a lighthouse.

In the freezing silence a sudden whispering noise made him stop on his tracks. On a first moment he thought of it as a simply mind trick due to the low pressure and lack of air, but when the whisper became a very tangible sentence Berwald shifted his eyes towards the void which surrounded him.

Despite that, no one was in sight and the voice, rather spick and span with a child-like tone, kept chanting "Strike for it!"

"Strike for it," the voice urged again. "Strike for the frozen heart!"

At that the form of a slim boy appeared in front of Berwald: the boy was balanced on the ice claws with his hands linked on the solid surface and the legs dangling in mid-air. Rather astonished, Berwald observed the young form: very pale features framed by a blond mop of hair. The boy wore simple, light garments and it was clear from his bold and nonplussed attitude that he was used to these low temperatures.

"Strike for the frozen heart! Listen to me foreigner, if you want to know what lies under the Mountain's legend then strike for the frozen heart!" the boy yelled.

Uncertain, Berwald hesitated slightly; he wanted to know more about the mysterious legend that lingered on the Ice Mountain, but what did the boy mean with 'frozen heart'?

Seeing the stalling man, the boy decided to spur him on. "Those foolish humans believed they could control _the Ice_. They wanted to create the most powerful weapon on the Earth, but didn't take into account the real power of the element they so cherished."

"Ice is stronger than hundred men." he said with finality.

At that moment a blinding light temporarily blinded Berwald. The bluish gleam inside the transparent wall was pulsing, living; the waves it produced were filling the air with a fuzzy vibration.

With a little incentive from the amused boy ("Strike for it, foreigner! Split the ice apart and break the frozen heart!"), Berwald eyed the glimmering flame and settled his mind.

A strong shot was aimed at the gleaming area that cracked under the power of the hit. The monument shattered and collapsed on itself, rubble falling and breaking in a waterfall of ice crystals which rained all over the snowing coat.

Again the blinding light flamed in various shades of blue, hence covering all the Mountain's peak until, from the spectacular clash of colours shining in mid-air, the figure of a person landed into the snow underneath.

The game of lights ended along with the ice rain, leaving a dizzy Berwald and an unconscious person in the cold breeze of the snow. Even the young boy seemed to have faded with the monument and the only proof of the once building was the ice debris lying on the white coat.

In spite of the upsetting event, Berwald scrambled up and approached the yet still body, with a quick glance he noticed the slim form wrapped in a soft cloth which highlighted the stranger's porcelain skin and the blond hair framing a round and smooth visage.

As he stretched his hand in order to lift him up, the slender boy opened his glass-like eyes and sprang up while laughing happily. When their eyes met, Berwald felt a weird sensation tickling him, but it vanished right away.

The young man was mumbling by himself ("I knew it was all Peter's fault. That little Lake's spirit has done another one of his shenanigans!"), but Berwald was too astonished to really take notice of what he was saying or doing. Then, the figure eyed him with sincerely apologise written all over his face as he murmured a soft 'I am truly sorry for the trouble'.

All of a sudden, the man started eyeing him with curiosity, rooming his very soul with a sole glance.

Then he abruptly asked. “Who are you? You're not a magician, you don't seem to even be capable to handle the Art of the Magic.”

The comment amazed Berwald, even though his face didn't lose the hitherto nonplussed stance that seemed engraved on him; an unchangeable expression that more often than not scared whoever tried to approach him with friendly intentions.

With the same deadpan and drone tone he replied. “I am a Sources' Researcher, I study the Elements from which originate the various type of Magics. I came here because I wanted to analyze the Ice Mountain and its origins.” he explained. “And who are you?”

Bemused the man's face sparkled with renewed interest for Berwald as if he had just found the treasure he had been looking for ages. He murmured with mesmerizing tone something and grinned at Berwald.

His amused grin soon turned in a more serious frown and an authoritative voice left his feminine mouth. "I was born from the pure cold and winter air and mountain rain combining. I am the one and true essence of these ice-clad lands, indeed, I am _Ice_."

Berwald absorbed the information, effectively taking in the heavy magic aura the figure standing in front of him was emitting; the man spoke the truth. Finally, Berwald was able to face one of the lost source sleeping in the unknown lands. His long journay led him to the Mountain wherein the ancient Element lied.

Seeing the unspoken enthusiasm creeping over the Researcher, the man chuckled lightly and cordially added. "This is the beauty of the icy force. Although it can be quite the danger manhandling the frozen heart, it is worth the ordeal."

Indeed, thought Berwald, it was worth the ordeal.

And with the same easy-going attitude the man said. "There are a lot of things I want to do, so if you're going to stick with me for a while I think we should try knowing each other better! It's been a long time since the last time I had the chance to properly walk down those laced ways in the town!"

The man kept wondering about new purposes and prompts for the beginning of his 'new life' ("Oh my, I absolutely want to eat that sweet fruit I once saw on a bush right behind that Rowan tree: it was delicious!") whereas Berwald wrote down the hitherto events and the awakening of the Element; he had a lot of information to communicate to his fellows as well as his recent discoveries, but the squeaking voice of the other recoiled him from his thoughts, thus drawing his attention to the man running off and trying to catch a squirrel that had dared approaching.

His joyful laughter covered Berwald's concerns, thus deciding to postpone the work matters and concentrating to the young figure now sprawled under the white coat while holding down the little mammals.

"Oh right," said the latter "I forgot to mention my name."

He chuckled and corrected himself. "Well, my human name at least. By the way, I am Tino Väinämöinen, it's nice to meet you, Berwald!"

Tino's smile was like a shower of warm sunshine and Berwald felt reassured having him around; the two joint together for the retrieving trip, silently soaking in the cold and freezing Ice Mountain, now only a memento of a bygone legend came true.


End file.
